


Tom Marvolo Riddle: mild doom, art lover?

by mildrice



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Fantasy, Gen, Humor, No beta only suffering, Non-Linear Narrative, Nonbinary Character, Original Character(s), Self-Insert, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-06-06 03:04:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15185333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mildrice/pseuds/mildrice
Summary: An SI OC-insert with fanatical tendencies possesses the infant Tom Riddle. The world changes.





	1. Like taking candy from a baby

**Author's Note:**

> The phrase "mild doom, art lover" is an anagram of Tom Marvolo Riddle.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> _Tommy was going to change the world._  
> 

Tommy Riddle knew he was special. There wasn't anyone else like him at the orphanage. Even at the tender age of five, he knew his intellect and abilities outranked his peers, and probably even the caretakers themselves. Perhaps in another scenario, he'd become isolated due to others fearing him. Here, however, he was the darling of the orphanage. So sweet, so intelligent, such a thoughtful little boy. They were all such dimwitted sheep. Tommy had a protector that made everything better. They knew everything and taught him how to get what he wanted! No one else knew about them - it was to be a secret. He was good with secrets.

 

When he was younger, Tommy spent most of his time asleep. In his dreams, he'd see images of impossible things and hear guiding words. He wouldn't always remember the dreams, especially the ones that happened before he was old enough to be toilet trained, but over time he learned how to act accordingly for all sorts of situations.

 

Take tonight's dinner, for example. Normally they only got pudding on Sundays. Today was a Monday though and Tommy got a biscuit tucked under a napkin when he got his serving of dinner. Tommy didn't really like ginger snaps but that wasn't the point of the gesture. It was that the cook smiled at him and treated him the way he deserved and that no one else was his equal.

 

The Guardian chuckled in his head. _Oh my little Tommy, you're not a spoiled brat at all, aren't you?_

 

Tommy wrinkled his nose at the voice. _Sarcasm doesn't suit you,_ he thought back, _anyways, you're the one that taught me all this._

 

The Guardian giggled. _Too true! So very true._

 

The Guardian had been someone else before acting as Tommy's guide. They didn't really remember much about themselves in particular, though. If pressed for further information the guardian would simply state _I was unremarkable then. But you'll be remarkable now._

 

Tommy was going to change the world. He wasn't quite sure how he was going to, but it was going to happen.

 

His guardian told him so.


	2. I don't know how to say no to this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> _Is it evil to try and ensure your survival?_  
> 

The Guardian is always awake, except when they’re asleep, and they haven’t been asleep in a long time. The constant consciousness is taxing yet also not too distressing. They don’t have a physical body anymore ( _they used to have one, right?_ ) so there is little tangible strain. The consistent awareness has surely impacted them, though it’s not like Tommy can give an objective response as to whether or not the Guardian still has all their marbles.

 

What a strange world to live in ( _are they even alive?_ ), where children’s fantasy is now their reality and the primary antagonist of a story is now their livelihood. The Guardian lives as the boy does and it’s in their best interest, and Tom’s to be honest, that they allow him his rise to power without such messy villandry. There are many ways to power and since they know of a future, perhaps they can sculpt Tommy in a way that is more tasteful and less of a failure.

 

Is it evil to try and ensure your survival? The Guardian doesn’t know much about souls or death itself, but Horcruxes, not to mention establishing yourself as a suspicious character at 11 years of age seem to be self-defeating in the long run. They don’t particularly love existing but they know more about existing than they do about not existing, so why not use it to their advantage?

 

The Guardian came into awareness around the same time that little Tommy began to understand object permanence. It was frustrating and confusing, a time of sensory overload and a lack of shared understanding. They let Tommy take care of the motor skills, the cheerful babbling of a baby or toddler while they tried to put themselves together in a metaphysical way. Where did their entity end and Tom’s begin? What made each of them their own individual, as if they were two parts in one container?

 

While the orphanage caretakers tried, they were also overworked, understaffed, and underfunded. The Guardian took on a more parental role, ensuring that Tommy could develop fine motor skills and other early childhood development stages rather than wasting away in his crib. Let it be noted that the entity had never been nor had ever desired to raise a child. So, while Tommy did learn, and surely, he did learn, the depth and spread of what he learned over the years was knowledge far beyond what one might expect from an English orphan in the early-mid-20th century.

 

The Guardian doesn’t act out of altruism. They’re not godly, a public servant, or even that interested in the everyday life of humans. It’s too hard to feel when you’re so aware of your existence. In this case, the entity feels not only themself, but the budding identity that is Tom Marvolo Riddle. The Guardian knows that he is going places, knows of a bad end Tom could turn into without proper guidance. How could they so no to ensuring their own survival? To his thriving, not just surviving?

 

_...They’ll be remarkable now_


	3. I learned new math, not old math

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> _Yer a wizard, Tommy_  
> 

****_Yer a wizard, Tommy._

 

_What are you talking about now?_

 

The Guardian likes to distract him with the strangest ideas when he’s supposed to be paying attention. Still, Tommy is bored at school so he supposes he’ll let this irritation continue. He always learns new things, especially about history and science. The Guardian has a lot of negative things to say about his education but they’ve never talked about fantastical concepts at school.

 

_Shouldn’t you be telling me about long division?_

_I never learned how to do long division. I learned new math, Tommy. This is old math. Anyways, as I said… Yer a wizard, Tommy._

 

The Guardian thinks Tommy is missing the point. Tommy thinks new math sounds stupid. Why would they change how math works?

 

_This isn’t relevant to a mathematical division._

 

_Math barely matters in a world that defies physics._ _Nor is division relevant to magic. Yer a Wizard. You’re 10 going on 18, we both know that, but 11 years old is important to magical folx._

 

_You spelled folks wrong._

 

Sometimes the Guardian spells things weird or says the wrong things. Tommy feels a bit smug about his superiority then. 

 

_No, I didn’t. So, Magical folx. You’ll meet one in a few months soon after your birthday. Be prepared. Be nice. Don’t look them in the eye and keep your mind clear if you do._

 

They feel like a helicopter parent now. How has the mighty Guardian fallen to this?

 

The teacher interrupts Tommy’s inner conversation. “Mr. Riddle, do you have something to share with the class?” Tommy almost scowls at himself. He was drawn into distraction too easily. He walks up to the blackboard, back straight and proud. He’ll show the class of dimwits how you do long division. He writes out the numbers and lines, careful to not get himself dirty with chalk dust.

 

“The answer is 11, Miss. Brown.” The teacher gives him a small smile and lets him return to his seat.

 

_The answer is 11, Miss. Brown._ The Guardian mimics his polite mannerisms in his head.

 

_You’re the one that told me to make them adore me!_ Tommy is not pouting. He’s not.

 

The Guardian laughs, _They do adore you. I’ll make sure everyone does. Just remember, yer a wizard._

 

_Okay, Okay! I’m a wizard._ Tommy pauses, thinking about how the Guardian ‘speaks’ _Why does your voice fluctuate so much? Why the emphasis on the “Yer a Wizard” phrase?_

 

_It’s an inside joke, Tommy._

 

_We’re already inside my mind. How much more inside can we get?_

 

Probably a lot closer, to be honest. They're mentally close but since the Guardian lacks quantifiable matter...

 

_...You’ll understand when you’re older Tommy. Probably._

 

Tommy thinks a bit. _I’m Tom you know, Tom Riddle. Not just Lil’ Tommy._

 

_I know. Trust me, I know._ They really do. In some ways, the Guardian is scared of how much they know about Tommy, of how much they know in general. It's exhausting. 

 

The Guardian has never lead Tommy, no Tom, wrong. They know all sorts of things, from how to speak French or an Oriental language _(Āiyā, it’s Asian, not Oriental, Tommy. Also, it’s Mandarin Chinese.)_ to mending clothing and making everyone like him. So, if they say he’s a wizard, well, he must be a wizard.

 

In a few months when Albus Dumbledore visits Wool's Orphanage he is pleasantly surprised to meet a wonderful muggleborn boy named Tom Riddle. He has high hopes for the boy and looks forward to taking him to Diagon Alley. Maybe the boy will show a flair for Transfiguration?

 

No snake-speaking tendencies or trophy hoards are revealed. 

 

The universe continues to shift and the Guardian is pleased.

 

All is well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Āiyā (啊呀) in this example expresses exacerbation. It is used in place of a sigh, or admonishing "tsk" but can also be used as a means of exclamation similar to "wow".


	4. Tom, mad vile lord?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> _Comment vous appelez-vous ?_  
> 

_ Tom, no. Just...no. _

 

_ What is wrong with an anagram of my name? _

 

_ Anagrams are fine. Choosing an anagram you made at age 11 as your evil overlord name? Not fine. _

 

_ I think Lord Voldemort sounds imposing. _

 

I think we need to review votre français _so you can understand how ridiculous your name is._ Monsieur “flees-from-death”.

 

_ I can sense those air quote, you realize. It could also mean theft of death, or flight of death, you plebeian.  _

 

_ Bringing out the big words, aren’t you, young master. _

 

Tom doesn’t understand the disdain his Guardian has about Lord Voldemort. Sure, it’s a bit too extravagant from him now, a slight 12-year-old, but he could grow into it!

 

_ You won’t become the Minister for Magic with that title. _

 

_ I thought the Minister was a puppet? And the government is intrinsically flawed? _

 

_...don’t throw my words back at me… _

 

Tom can tell that his Guardian is pouting. He’s become more able to match wits with them, calling them out on their beliefs and their attempts at manipulation. He feels rather proud of himself. 

 

Still, he knows that the Guardian is just looking out for him, or them, but sometimes he wishes that he could just be a normal boy? Or at least be able to pretend to be one without the commentary of an ambiguous passenger.

 

While most of the time he doesn't mind them, sometimes their reactions make his experiences feel less like his own. Take his trip to Diagon Alley for example. 

 

Tom might’ve seen magic as something special or fascinating if the Guardian hadn’t spoiled everything for him. The quaint designs and foreign appearance of the magical shopping district could’ve been overwhelming. Instead, it was simply ridiculed.

 

_ It seems like magical folx can’t build very well Tommy. Look at that bank! It’s one thing to have an aesthetic, it’s another thing entirely to crossover all the way into impracticality! _

 

_ Shhhh! I’m trying to listen to Professor Dumbledore.  _ And truly, he was. Tom wanted Professor Dumbledore to like him. He wanted this powerful man to see his potential, his drive, his interest in all things magical.

 

_ Shhhh! I’m trying to understand how anything is standing when there aren’t even functional magical architects.  _

 

Instead of a peaceful exploration, the day was full of snide commentary. The voice in his head made it difficult for Tom to maintain his charismatic mask but hopefully, he was surrounded by enough of the various pre-Hogwarts crowds that the auburn-haired professor didn’t notice. 

 

_ You know, Mr. Ollivander said that my wand comes with greatness… _

 

_ Greatness doesn’t occur from some self-appointed title. _

 

_ You could just support me. _

 

_ I could also make sure that you live and thrive _

 

_ What does that mean? _

 

_....nothing. Go back to reading your Transfiguration textbook. _

 

Sufficiently frustrated, Tom went back to examining his homework for the night. His parchment was dotted with variations on Lord Voldemort that he made while reading. Maybe the Guardian was right, and he did have delusions of grandeur.

 

That didn’t mean he wasn’t hurt though. 

 

Stupid Guardians. Lord Voldemort was a perfectly acceptable nom de guerre. It totally was!

 

_... _

 

The Guardian didn't respond to Tom, no matter how many mental probes he sent at them. It was already hard enough in Ravenclaw, why did the Guardian have to be so difficult for him now? First Myrtle Warren, now this? 

 

Magic was supposed to be cool and make his life better, not worse. 


	5. Is one a Crusader? Or ruthless Invader?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> _“There is no good and evil, there is only power and those too weak to seek it.”_
> 
>  
> 
> ― J.K. Rowling, _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_  
> 

_Congrats you made your first minion._

 

_My what?_

 

_Your minion. Follower. Lackey. Gopher. You know…_

 

_...I really don't._

 

_Tommy, we’ve covered this. On an Evil Overlord scale of literally doing nothing to ‘wow I've released a millennium-old-magical beast from the depths of the school’ you're at a 3._

 

_..._

 

_Wel!? Respond to him! He just swore fealty to you._

 

_I don’t want him as my follower._

 

_You’ll accept this follower and like it!_

 

_No!_

 

_Yes!_

 

_No! I don’t want to! He’s useless._

 

_If you do it I’ll stop making fun of your Evil Overlord persona._

 

And so Tommy gained his first human follower, Token Fawley, the third son of a branch family to the notably Pureblood Fawleys.

 

Now just how did this exactly happen?

 

Tom had been wandering about the castle, using his few free hours to explore the drafty halls. Earlier in the year, he'd noticed that throughout the corridors there were small engravings of the Founders' animals, a roaring lion, a soaring eagle, a protective badger, and a coiled snake. As an enterprising young Ravenclaw, Tom made a goal to find and document the location of every etching. Hogwarts after all was brimming with magic, a living history of over hundreds of years.

 

It was when Tom had finally tracked down the end of a series of cheerful badgers that he found Fawley. To be frank, the Hufflepuff was in a sad state. His body language screamed anxiety and his spoken words were stuttered and unclear. He was cornered by two larger figures, Gryffindors, based on their brightly colored scarves.

 

“You're a poor excuse of a Pureblood, Fawley”

 

“And he's a poor excuse of a man too! What kind of loser lets two girls just walk all over them?”

 

The small boy made some squeaks in response.

 

_You know, Tom, you could do something about this._

 

_Why should I? It's not my business._

 

_Well, they are all in your way. Do you really want to have to move around them or wait for them to leave?_

 

_I could get a professor I suppose…_

 

_So do it!_

 

_I don't want to._

 

_…_

 

_…_

 

_..._

 

_You took too long... now, your candy's gone… Bakoww_

 

_My what._

 

“And just who do you think you are?” A loud voice distinctly not that of the Guardian's croon startled Tom.

 

“An ickle-wittle baby raven!” The other girl had a saccharine voice.

 

Ugh. Girls.

 

_Excuse you. All genders can be trashy, not just girls._

 

Ughhh. People.

 

_That's better._

 

“-Excuse me? Are you listening to me, you brat? Just because you're handsome doesn't mean-”

 

“Ah, my sincere apologies. I was simply wondering why the likes of you would be consorting with the likes of him”

 

_More charm, less creep, Tom._

 

The pair of Gryffindors blushed. The louder one started to speak “Well, you see, he's technically my cousin and he's just so embarrassing, and…”

 

“Surely a lady like you has better things to do on a weekend than gallivant in the dungeons, yes?”

 

More blushing.

 

_Tom don't do it._

 

“...such as working on your cosmetic charms and fixing your disproportionate face?”

 

_Tom. No._

 

A ladylike gasp, contrasted with the quiet snort from her companion, broke through the dripping silence of the dungeon. “Well, I, y-you're rude! And not cute! And a dreary boy who belongs in musty dungeons like this.”

 

The Gryffindors stormed past Tom, leaving him and the unfortunate Fawley behind.

 

“You really should've run away, Fawley”

 

“You...you stood up for me!”

 

“I stood up for myself and the pursuit of knowledge, you nuisance.”

 

“That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said about me.”

 

Tom wanted nothing to do with the situation anymore and moved to leave the corridor.

 

“Wait!”

 

Tom turned around, his wand whipped out before Fawley could dare to touch him.

 

“What.”

 

“Let me join you! I'll be useful!”

 

No. Nope. No. Tom walked away once more, speeding up his pace.

 

The thing about Hufflepuffs is that they're very good finders. They're also determined and loyal. Unfortunately for Tom, Fawley had decided to imprint his friendship on the strange dark-haired boy who helped him...at all costs. The cost was mostly Tom's patience and ability to ignore human suffering.   


_Congrats you made your first minion, Lord Voldemort._

 

_I can hear your muffled laughter, you know._

 

And that's how Lord Voldemort got his first follower.


End file.
